A POETIC FUCK OFF

Version 2

What have we here? It are a poet! Don’t u knowit!

Kontkop Koekemoer over here sends me this message, littered with spelling errors and psychological aberrancies.

Abdridged translation as follows:

“Hi, sorry, I know we don’t know each other. And just because of that it is perfect that you should read my new poems and tell me what you think. Big please.”

Hmmm. Okay, so here we are on the playground called Facebook, with a predator approaching children with a lollipop (poetry) that he thinks is attractive enough to make gullible females (children) swoon just because an authority figure (poet) is paying attention to you. And/or he plays the cute little boy act who wants mummy to reward him for building some kak lego truck. He apologises for the intrusion but he is not sorry, he is doing it on purpose. Then sociopath justifies his intrusion into your privacy (because we don’t know each other it is a good idea) and in his head rationalises his own behaviour.

I tell him to fuck off. And then get this very poetic response:

Version 3

Not very artistic, I must say. I expected more from a poet.

Literally translated it means:

“Wow, yoire one sick sick thing Yoi mother’s vgina ok! Don me swear not ztupid slut.’

 

Fuckface stalks you with a false lollipop, you call him on it, then he goes all psycho like he is the victim.

Can you imagine if he actually sent poetry?! The torture would have been unbearable. It would probably have amounted to intellectual molestation.

 

Here’s a poem for you, Kontkop:

Roses are red, Violets are blue

I have five fingers, the third one’s for you.

 

And another thing: JOU PA SE PIEL, OK!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “A POETIC FUCK OFF

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